Battle Born by Dale Brown

By Dale Brown

Patrick McLanahan is back--and this time he faces his such a lot tough problem. He needs to pull jointly a crew of competitive, maverick younger pilots to stand a global on the point of immense nuclear clash. It starts with a joint U.S.-Japanese-South Korean mock bombing raid. however the South Korean fighter pilots do not follow the script. as a substitute, they race around the border into North Korea to aid a tremendous people's insurrection opposed to the Communists. almost in a single day, the fledgling United Korea is the world's most up-to-date nuclear strength, igniting a fuse that threatens to blow Asia aside and set off global battle III. basically McLanahan has the top-secret aviation know-how and the brash younger heroes to prevent the arrival inferno--if he can get them to forestall combating one another and begin combating as a crew earlier than the realm is decreased to cinders!

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The OSO yelled. “That run looked great! We were a little off, but well within the kill zone. Those squids are jacking us around, guys! That was a good kill all the—” “Forget about it, Long Dong,” the pilot interrupted. ” The OSO called up the last target in the third restricted-area bombing range. “Steering is good,” he said. “Single Scud-ER transporter-erector-launcher with communications van. Supposed to be tucked in between some hills. Max points if we get this one, guys—it’s worth more than all the other targets put together.

He shouted. “Closure rate one thousand knots! ” the copilot warned again. They were now draining fuel at an incredible three hundred pounds of fuel per second and going nowhere but straight up. ” the OSO called. ” For safety’s sake, the rules of engagement, or ROE, at Navy Fallon prohibited any pilot from breaking an invisible one-mile-diameter “bubble” around all participants. ” the pilot snapped. ” Breaking the ROE could put all the players in serious danger—and he was breaking rules one after another.

Ten . . doors coming open . . five . . ” The pilots could see the target, a white trailer with an old sewer pipe strapped atop it, configured to look somewhat like a Scud missile. “Doors coming closed . ” the copilot shouted happily. ” “Let’s start a right turn to two-four-three,” the OSO said. But just as they zoomed past the target area and crossed over the southern edge of the gully, a flurry of smoky SAMs filled the sky. ” the DSO shouted. “Scram! ” The B-1 snap-rolled to the left so hard that the OSO’s head hit the right bulkhead.

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